The Third Of February, 1852 Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: ABACDE FGFGHH IJIKLL MNMCOO PQPQRR STSTTT USUSTT ATATTT| My Lords we heard you speak you told us all | A |
| That England's honest censure went too far | B |
| That our free press should cease to brawl | A |
| Not sting the fiery Frenchman into war | C |
| It was our ancient privilege my Lords | D |
| To fling whate'er we felt not fearing into words | E |
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| We love not this French God the child of hell | F |
| Wild War who breaks the converse of the wise | G |
| But though we love kind Peace so well | F |
| We dare not even by silence sanction lies | G |
| It might be safe our censures to withdraw | H |
| And yet my Lords not well there is a higher law | H |
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| As long as we remain we must speak free | I |
| Tho' all the storm of Eurpoe on us break | J |
| No little German state are we | I |
| But the one voice in Europe we must speak | K |
| That if to night our greatness were struck dead | L |
| There might be left some record of the things we said | L |
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| If you be fearful then must we be bold | M |
| Our Britain cannot salve a tyrant o'er | N |
| Better the waste Atlantic roll'd | M |
| On her and us and ours for evermore | C |
| What have we fought for Freedom from our prime | O |
| At last to dodge and palter with a public crime | O |
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| Shall we fear him our own we never fear'd | P |
| From our first Charles by force we wrung our claims | Q |
| Prick'd by the Papal spur we rear'd | P |
| We flung the burthen of the second James | Q |
| I say we never fear'd and as for these | R |
| We broke them on the land we drove them on the seas | R |
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| And you my Lords you make the people muse | S |
| In doubt if you be of our Barons' breed | T |
| Were those your sires who fought at Lewes | S |
| Is this the manly strain of Runnymede | T |
| O fallen nobility that overawed | T |
| Would lisp in honey'd whispers of this monstrous fraud | T |
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| We feel at least that silence here were sin | U |
| Not ours the fault if we have feeble hosts | S |
| If easy patrons of their kin | U |
| Have left the last free race with naked coasts | S |
| They knew the precious things they had to guard | T |
| For us we will not spare the tyrant one hard word | T |
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| Tho' niggard throats of Manchester may bawl | A |
| What England was shall her true sons forget | T |
| We are not cotton spinners all | A |
| But some love England and her honor yet | T |
| And these in our Thermopyl shall stand | T |
| And hold against the world this honor of the land | T |
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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